


Into Battle

by consultingadler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional, F/F, F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Mentions of Death, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:23:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9473234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/consultingadler/pseuds/consultingadler
Summary: The Holmes-Watson wedding no one expected...





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, after an emotional S4 I decided to make a ship between Rosie Watson and Irene and Sherlock's currently non existent child, Victoria. I think it's cute and it gave me an excuse to write (I haven't in a while) so here we are. Enjoy.

In the last six years Rosamund Watson had found herself in several, if not more, life threatening situations. Her father had informed her that this simply what happened when you found companionship in a Holmes— terror followed suite. Though strangely terror become... well, the norm. In act, she barely ever reacted to it when on a case, managing to maintain a level head (and steady hand, if the need arose). So, what puzzled her was that out of all the things in the world she could fear, her mind had chosen this. 

Wedding nerves were natural, of course. This was a big thing... something she clearly hadn't prepared herself enough for. She'd actually managed to convince herself it would be rather easy by simplifying the steps and maybe forgetting about all the things that came in between getting married and then going away on her honeymoon... 

"Shit." Rosie breathed out, her chest falling as she glanced toward herself in the mirror ahead and found a trembling hand pushing back a stray curl that had fallen from her eccentrically pinned back hair. With that, her hands came to rest upon her navel as her gaze flickered over her form and surprisingly a smile twitched onto her lips. The dress she wore had belonged to her mother, Mary Watson, a figure that she didn't remember and yet had always been present in her life. It had sat up in the attic for countless years, with the last ray of light having touched it when her mother zipped it up into a storage bag the day after their wedding. Rosie had figured this was why her dad had avoided going near it for so long, and why there was such hesitation in letting her wear it. It held one of the last touches of Mrs. Watson and one of the few happy memories that John had with his wife before their time together came to an abrupt end. This was perhaps another reason why he had burst into tears when seeing the young woman walk slowly into the living room, holding the slightly too large fabric to her chest. 

Since then it had been adjusted and reworked slightly, making it her own. Her mother's presence was very much still in the dress however, and the veil she wore—even in her smile that had quickly fallen when remembering that someone who meant such a great deal to her, wouldn't witness a moment that would be held so close to her heart. 

"Rosie?" 

With a blink, her eyes drew from her own and with a turn of her head, she found herself smiling again upon seeing John Watson standing tall in front of her, shoulders back and head forward to mask the nervous twitch he'd adopted in the last hour. Always the soldier... 

A brief silence lingered between them, before his daughter closed the gap and pulled him into an embrace, knowing both of their thoughts and trying to silence them as best as she possibly could. 

"You look- Your... Your mum-" Unfortunately John's speech did not mirror his stance and it didn't take long for a sob to escape his lips, to which Rosamund held him tighter, not much else needing to be said. 

This, no doubt, would be the first of many tears throughout the day. 

"Is the car outside?" Rosie soon questioned upon pulling back, trying to ignore the welling of her eyes as she looked over the man. "I'll never hear the end of it if I'm late, especially from Irene. You know what she's like..." 

"Unfortunately, I do." John grumbled as he inhaled deeply and found his nose twitch a little before he attempted something of a smile. "It's waiting out front, we still have a couple of minutes before we head... Sherlock suggested I come up earlier. Bloody smart arse, knew I was going to end up doing this." 

"Doing what?" Laughing softly, the young woman drew back and quirked a sharp brow upon catching the mans gaze. "You're not going to give me the talk again are you? About being sure on this, because I am, Dad." 

His head soon shook with this (though he had possibly intended on asking, just in case...) and slowly John reached out his hand, taking her own and clasping the other around it. "I just- I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you, and I know I don't say it very much but I am, Rosamund. You're the best thing that happened to me, and you know, I had my doubts about raising you on my own but... bloody hell, I think I must have done some good because you've grown into this." 

"Dad-" 

"No, let me finish. You're an exceptional young woman and I know your mother would be so proud of you. Even if you are marrying a bloody Holmes." The tears came again, though they were soon brushed aside with laughter as father and daughter embraced for a second time, with John's lips coming to press softly against her hair. "I love you, and I just wanted you to know that," he muttered, before his lips pursed for a moment. 

"I love you too." Came Rosie's reply, with her hands tightening in his suit jacket as an overwhelming sense of dread washed over her again. She wouldn't let this put her off, however. She was about to get married and she didn't want to waste a moment. Time was far too precious, and now more than ever she lingered on how quickly it could be taken away. "Now, Dr. Watson, into battle. My fiancée is waiting and we both know how impatient a Holmes can be." Pulling back, a familiar smirk curled onto her lips as she drew in a deep breath and extended her arm out for him to take. 

With this, John found his own grin and soon came to stand beside his only child, linking his arm through her own as his phone buzzed in his pocket, a text presumably from Sherlock to congratulate him on wrapping up the speech so quickly. As his head raised, his eyes met a picture of his wife, cradling a newborn Rosie barely an hour after her birth. His grin faltered slightly, though he kept his late wife's warm gaze as he nodded and soon went to speak... "Into battle."


End file.
